


Sports Equipment In The Bedroom

by Persephone_Van_Dyke



Series: Not The Way I Love You [5]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Community: kink_bingo, F/M, Infidelity, Pervertibles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-09-15
Updated: 2011-09-15
Packaged: 2017-10-23 18:47:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,068
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/253713
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Persephone_Van_Dyke/pseuds/Persephone_Van_Dyke
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>'How is <i>hockey</i> a sex thing, Jack?'<br/>'It's all about the equipment.'</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sports Equipment In The Bedroom

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the prompt 'Pervertibles' in [kink_bingo](http://kink-bingo.dreamwidth.org/)
> 
> The hockey reference in Sleeper, and the blink-and-you'll-miss-it moment in Dead Man Walking where the hockey stick is shown, kept ticking over in my brain when I was thinking about what to write for this prompt. This is an attempt to fill in the blanks.
> 
> Not my characters, not making any money from this

  
'And Jack said "You should come round to my house for a game of hockey sometime," smiled Tosh, reaching for more rice.

Gwen giggled.

'That is _worst_ pick-up line I've ever heard.'

'I _know_. It's even worse that the "Nice to meet you, Smith-John-Smith" thing he does,' laughed Tosh.

'My ears are burning,' said a collected voice from the doorway. Gwen and Tosh glanced round. He was propping up the doorframe, arms folded. 'Something I should know?'

'Just - discussing your pick-up technique,' said Gwen. Tosh lowered her eyes to hide a smile.

'I wasn't trying to pick him up. And I never make offers I can't deliver on,' he added, smiling, that one-sided smile that makes her want to kiss him and/or slap him.

' _Hockey_ , though. How is _hockey_ a sex thing, Jack?'

'It's all about the equipment,' he said, and turned away, smiling as if at some private joke.

Gwen felt a blush starting. She was certain no one had clocked them, but this blush kept erupting to betray her, at the least likely moments - something about the way he smiled. The way, when you're crushing hard on someone, even their silly throwaway jokes make you giggle. Maybe that's why these lines work for him.

'You finished with the rice?' she asked Tosh, to change the subject

* * *

Later, she's typing away like fury at her workstation, trying to get her report written up, and she becomes aware he's right behind her.

'So, you were saying?' said his insinuating voice, by her ear.

'What?'

'About hockey. You were mocking me, Missy.' _Oh god he's doing that **voice** , shit._ 'Ever heard the expression "Don't knock it til you've tried it"?'

A hand running slowly down her back. She loses track of her typing. The hand progresses to her bum. A swift pinch that makes her suppress a squeak.

She tried to focus. It's tricky.

'Anyone else here?'

'All gone home.'

'Cameras?'

'Off.'

She spun without warning, twisted neatly into his grip, moving straight in to kiss him hard on the lips. She wants this so badly it scares her. Working with him is like a constant itch, playing around after hours a high-wire of concealment and rationalisation. Fortunately, he's played by her rules so far. For someone so blatantly indiscreet, he's kept it all very quiet.

A hard, vicious kiss, pressing her back against her desk. An expert hand on her breasts, and she feels the rush of wetness to her cunt, presses herself against him.

Then he pulls away.

'Come on.'

Following him to his office, then down the ladder to his tiny cell-like room.

'See, the thing is,' he said, his voice going discursive, 'I'm pretty good at improvising. But believe it or not, this was Ianto's idea originally.'

'Oh.' They haven't talked about Jack and Ianto. She doesn't really want to know, but there's no jealousy, because she likes Ianto a lot and Jack is clearly capable of giving them both the time and attention they need.

He's rummaging in the wardrobe - which seems to contain a spare coat and a lot of near-identical shirts. Buried at the back, she recalls, is a box of interesting things - lubricant, toys, a paddle or too -

'Cause I don't have a spreader-bar, and he found this somewhere - '

A hockey stick.

'Spreader bar?'

'Yeah. Probably a bit heavy for beating someone with, and it's definitely not safe for penetration - ' he stopped. 'Why, what did you think I'd use it for?'

She can't help but grin.

'I had no idea.'

'Time to come and find out,' he said.

* * *

Hockey stick plus a few feet of rope, it turns out, equals spreader-bar. Gwen's ankles are pulled apart, her knees locked straight. Her wrists are tied to the bed, but that was hardly necessary - she's not going anywhere.

'Well?' Looking down at her, arms folded.

'All right, I am convinced.' She sounds mock-serious. 'You've convinced me. Now what?'

'Now whatever I feel like,' he said. He's doing that voice again. Intent, serious, with no trace of amusement. It used to make her nervous, til she found out by testing it that she could safeword out and his dominant persona vanished instantly. It's nothing more than a facade, but it still gives her an authentic shiver. Not least because she's heard a very similar voice when he does interrogations.

He sat on the bed, laid a hand on her abdomen. She tried to move - normally she'd push up against him but there's no leverage, the hockey stick is holding her immobile.

'Uh-uh. My game, my rules, Missy.'

One finger, running lightly down to the hem of her pants. They're new, lacy, posher than usual. And he's getting a very good look at them.

The finger creeps along the line, down to the soft concavity of her inner thigh, just brushing against her labia.

'You look so good like this,' he breathed, leaning down, his face close to hers. Turning to admire the effect from her point of view, he asked, 'Don't you think?'

'Yes.'

A raised eyebrow.

'Yes, Sir.'

She'd first used the title without thinking - picked it up from Ianto - and now he sort of expected it when they were in a scene. She likes it, finds it consoling. Safe, in a way. It sets her lover apart from the Jack she works with, creates an illusion of distance.

'Look at you,' he marvelled, still gazing down her body, 'all spread out for me, all open and available...'

She moaned a little. The finger is still working over her lips, just brushing the material. It's an agonisingly faint sensation.

'Oh, you want some more?' Tracing down, around, back up to her mons, one fingertip, maybe two.

She arched her hips up a little, pushing, and he took his hand away.

'Na-ah. You were so sure this couldn't be anything but funny - I'm gonna show you how hot it is - '

A finger is laid against her lips so she can smell her own arousal on him. Tentatively, she licked.

' - very, very slowly.'

The hockey-stick makes everything more interesting - all her usual moves are impossible, she's entirely dependent on him. He touches her very softly til she's gritting her teeth not to whimper.

'Jack - '

'Mm?' Almost a lazy response, his hand still tracing and dipping.

'Jack, please - '

'Please what?'

She's staring downwards - her legs incongruous and pale in the light of the bare bulb, stretched apart. His hand dancing over her.

'What, you want to take it a bit further?' He looks innocent, waiting for a response. She nodded, eagerly.

'OK.' He shifted down the bed, dipped his head. She closed her eyes, focus lost in the sensation as he nudged the material of her pants aside - _with his tongue, where did he learn to do that_? - and began to lick at her, teasing, tasting, breathing her scent in between strokes.

His lips and tongue and teeth - _oh god, how is that not scary, **teeth** , but oh, yes, do that again_ \- worked over her, light and persistent, til she was gasping. When he raised his head, she could see his breathing was quick, shallow.

'Oh, don't you dare stop now,' she muttered, as assertively as possible.

'Wasn't planning on it,' he said, and he's definitely less serious, he's smiling, this is a game they're both playing now. 'Don't go anywhere.'

He slid up the bed, pressing against her, then kissed her on the lips, and again she tasted herself. Without losing focus on the kiss, which is sending new waves of excitement through her, he's reaching to the bedside table for the condoms.

There's something very erotic in the fact that he's still half-dressed, when she's down to lacy pants and a bra. The rub of fabric on her bare thighs feels amazing, like a blessing, and then - _how did he put that on without me noticing?_ \- she felt his tip press against her clit.

'Oh god,' she moaned, again trying to push up, and getting nowhere.

'Uh-uh - be patient, that's it,' he's sliding against her, just brushing his cock against her swelled inner lips, teasing her again. He looks like he could do this all night - and she can't move to draw him in, can only lie and shiver silently, feeling vulnerable and hungry, until finally, he slips inside her.

Usually she'd wrap her legs round him - being tied and immobile immobile places new tensions and pressures on her, a different web of sensations through her muscles and nerves. Her body jolted. Spread wide as she was, she felt him more intensely _there_ , pressing up against her G-spot.

He was intent, his face twisting - it was getting him too, the different feel of her, squeezing him in new ways, so he's going to have a struggle to keep control til she comes. Forcing himself to breath calmly, he slowed, dipped a hand between them. The tip of his thumb on her clit, flicking up and down, up and down, making her whimper and gasp.

Gwen tried again, fruitlessly, to push up against him, hold him, but there is no give in her bonds and her legs are stretched apart and held down, and his legs are against the hockey-stock, holding her completely in place. He's moving inside her, his face intent, kissing her neck and her hair, his hand still working, trying, she thinks, for synchronicity. She can feel him growing close to coming, and she's so spread out and still that she needs longer, more -

'Sweetheart,' she moaned, clenching on him as best she could.

'Huh?' He's distracted, that gorgeous confused-dazed-turned-on look on his face.

'Come for me - come inside me now - I want to feel it - '

'Sure?' he asked. She swallowed.

'God yes,' and she did that thing again, tried inexpertly to clamp her muscles together and squeeze his cock. He groaned, speeded up, and she felt his orgasm, _god that is good_ , the throb and pulse of him as he came, moving hard and fast inside her. Like a sympathetic pulse, a shiver went through her - not an orgasm, but the echo of one.

He drew out, rolled on to his side, neatly slipping his hand back to her clit with barely a pause. At moments like this, she thinks, he really is as good as he tells everyone.

'I really want - ' she began, disjointedly. 'Oh - '

His breathing slows, but he's alert, eyes on her face.

'Yeah?'

'When you went down on me,' she murmurred. 'Would you - do that some more?'

'Sure,' he whispered, and slid down the bed, curling up neatly - some of his weight still holding their improvised spreader-bar in place - and dipped down to lick and taste and bury his face in her wet, open cunt.

The legs-apart thing was tormenting her - normally, she will instinctively squeeze her legs together when she gets close, and the relentless build of excitement that she can't influence, drawing her out, making her shiver and quake and pitch as much as she can, is driving her wild. She's stranded, immobile, the world shrinking because she can't reach it, her only point of contact the clever, creative things Jack's doing with his mouth and his fingers. All she can do is make noises - coherence is getting lost in the sensations - and think _I'm going to come, but I can't, but I want to so much, oh do that again -_

She moans, gasps, struggles to push against him when he finds the right places, and he goes with her moves, repeating the strokes that work til her voice grows high-pitched. Then - his fingers and lips and tongue all found the perfect moves and she peaked, arched her head back and yelled, her body rocking and violent, and he rode out the orgasm with her til she grew limp and lax.

And immediately, he's unfastened the ropes, slung the hockey stick and handcuffs to the floor, and pulled her close so she can curl up in his arms.

'All right,' she said, in the endorphin-drunk, wobbly voice of someone cataclysmically sated, 'I am never going to look at a hockey stick the same way again.'

He laughed softly into her hair.

'That'll teach you to mock my equipment,' he whispered, and she giggled and rolled over to punch him lightly on the arm.

That was the first time she fell asleep with him. He woke her and sent her home after an hour.

END  



End file.
